


The Experimenters Puppet

by midge_chan



Category: Attack on Titan, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Adorable, Cute, Drama, JeanMarco Week, M/M, Romance, Sad, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:51:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5349788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midge_chan/pseuds/midge_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The twisted tale, of a boy who was the puppet of a cruel experiment. With his past haunted with tales of torture, his mind corrupt and destroyed, he meets the one man who can help him. Jean Kirstein.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting the Famous Jean Kirstein

The opaque haired male arched his spine, fingernails ploughing into his bedsheets. “Stop! Stop!” A piercing scream left his lips, his hues widening in dread and absolute agony. The men in white overlooked the wailing boy, lips curling into smiles beneath their surgical masks. The males body quivered as the surgeons once more, lowered the metal barbs to the boys pale flesh. A searing pain coursed through his frail body, his skin now glowing a vibrant red from the ferocious assaults. “Stop! Please!” He tried once more to beg the robed men, only to have his voice silenced by a vicious jab to his torso. “He seems to be responding well… No signs of internal injuries, heart beat and breathing currently stable. Just as you described, sir.” A man at the male’s side spoke gently, his voice calm and tranquil despite the repetitive strikes to their victim. The boy glanced through his oiled fringe, at the man who had spoken, his emerald hues welling with tears at the onslaught of pain to his middle. His once beautiful body, was now streaked with blood, his skin flourished with welts and hideous burns. “As you can see, pupils… The body has already began to heal itself. Even in such extreme conditions, this is doing no harm to his body…” The men gazed down at his peeled flesh, nodding their heads in unison as they hurriedly scribbled into their clipboards, like trained puppies following their master’s commands. The male craned his neck backwards, screams gurgling behind his closed lips as fresh heat coursed up his legs. At his absolute threshold, his vision obscured, the pain growing fuzzy in his mind. “And that, ladies and gentleman, is the astonishing body of Marco Bott.”  
He had entered the world with a miraculous gift, something which had astonished the minds of science and the people amongst him. He had viewed his ‘gift’ as something far from it, it was something which distanced him from everyone else and although it was undetected from the typical person, he knew. As did his mother, the woman who left him in his seventh year.  
As soon as his dearest mother departed his side, he was left in the cruel and repulsive hands of experimenters. Perhaps his ability truly was something to treasure, but that wasn’t how they viewed it. They took him in, analysed and examined the male, and as he grew into manhood, the investigations seemed to advance in cruelty.  
He was the puppet. They were the puppeteers.  
It was only in his eighteenth year, the year he became an adult, was he was granted freedom. Although his body remained in the same pristine condition as it had when he had arrived at the facility, his mind remained distorted from years of abuse and sickening explorations. He was no longer the child he had been at his arrival.  
Marco gazed down at his outstretched palms, rough with age and untold stories. He slowly revolved his hands, his dull hues following down his wrists towards the crooks of his elbows. Although there was no evidence of his ghastly injuries and grievances, his mind knew of every bruise, every cut and every break completed on his frail body. His eyes followed down the sleeve of his shirt, recalling the grisly slices to his wrists, and his stained purple skin. There was nothing left to tell of his fight with life, nothing to remind himself of his conquest.  
He lowered his hands to rest upon his legs, his fingers drumming against the pale flesh of his thighs. Sighing gently, he tugged the hood of his jumper down and over his eyes, before lifting the strap of his satchel up and over his head. Although he had been freed from the facility, newspapers continued to spill his story and chatter endlessly echoed his name. Multiple times in his past, people had recognised his face and excitedly come forwards to see for themselves the unfortunate ability he had been granted.  
This was the main reason, that nowadays, he shielded his face from the public’s view, with thick hoodies and layered clothing.  
Marco proceeded forwards to the front door, closing the heavy oak at his heels as he wandered down the peddled pathway, and into the crowded village streets. Markets cluttered the walls, rising between houses. He kept his head bowed, his hues focused on the toes of his black boots. Although people continued with their tedious tasks, he felt the curious eyes of villagers, bearing into his back. The male quickened his pace, dodging swiftly past people and crowded stalls, as he made his way to the rear of the street.  
It occurred before he could even comprehend what was happening. In one swift collision against the side of a stranger, the hood fell from his eyes, his face immediately recognisable to the public. He froze in his place, hues lowered in fear as the silence lengthened.  
The chorus of voices rose up around him, like children crawling for their mother’s attention. “That’s the man with the weird skin, right Mama?” The voice of a child, seemed to linger in his ears, causing his lips to downturn into a pained frown. Even in the eyes of the innocent, he was nothing more than a scientist experiment.  
Marco remained silent, as villagers crawled at his sides, their voices shrill in the crowded market streets. He could do nothing more than remain standing with his head bowed, and eyelids screwed tightly, painfully waiting for the chatter to lower.  
“Hey… You just gonna stand there, and let these big bullies pick on you?” The smooth, charming speech of another male, awakened the boy from the havoc of his mind. He glanced upwards with slight shock, his emerald hues widening at he stared up at the handsome stranger. The man was slightly taller than himself; his hair teased like a child’s, his honeysuckle eyes staring back at him. “Well?”  
Marco’s cheeks flourished a light pink, his hues flickering downwards in embarrassment, as he proceeded to tug the hood back over his eyes. “I-It’s fine… Their just curious…” He shrugged helplessly as the mutters rose once more, his face lowering further into his chest. “You a celebrity or something…?” The other male’s lips curled into a teasing grin, his teeth pearl white and gleaming with care. He remained silent, hues flaring beneath his dark locks. It was incredibly unusual for anyone to not know who Marco was. In fact, the majority of people who had seen his face, recognised him immediately, from television screens and newspaper articles.  
“Well… Either way, it’s not going to be any use standing here and taking it,” The male sighed, eyes lifting to rifle through the crowds of onlookers. “I know a good spot, where they won’t bother you… But you’ve got to trust me, okay?” Hesitantly, Marco cleared his throat, slightly unbelieving that a stranger held this much interest in him. Especially one, with no intention of asking him about his ability, or his absence from the media. “Your name…” He whispered after a moment’s silence, his fingers clasping tighter around the strap of his satchel. “What’s your name, first? I can’t really trust someone, when I don’t even know their name…”  
A soft chuckle escaped from the lips of the stranger, his eyes lowering to meet the others hooded face. “Geez, nerd…” Pausing, he allowed the silence to settle. “It’s Jean. Jean Kirstein.”


	2. Sharing The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twisted tale, of a boy who was the puppet of a cruel experiment. With his past haunted with tales of torture, his mind corrupt and destroyed, he meets the one man who can help him. Jean Kirstein.

Marco glanced upwards at the elder male through his fringe of black, his hues soft with hesitation. “Well? I told you my name. It’s only fair that I know yours, right?” The male’s hues immediately widened, his hands curling into fists by his side. His skin seemed to stretch tighter around his small frame, causing for his chest to throb and for his limbs to ache.  
“I get it. You don’t have to tell me…” Jean smiled gently as he lifted his rough hand, placing it on top of the male’s hooded head. Marco relaxed beneath the stranger’s soft touches, a light blush flourishing his freckled cheeks. He remained silent as the male lowered his hand from his head, his head bowed so that his hood cast shadows across his face.  
“C’mon then… Let’s head off.” Marco managed a light nod in response, his eyes following the male’s heels, as he followed him from the crowded market arena.  
He appeared lost beneath his thick coat, his small frame shrouded in darkness. He looked the man of the shadows, a person full of mystery and secrecy.   
Like a child’s toy, long forgotten. Sitting abandoned on an empty shelf, isolated from love and a compassion that only a child could provide.   
Although his skin was healed and detected no sign of his past injuries, the male’s face told of the horrors he had met. His face was a permanent sickly hue, his freckles like teardrops, flourished across his body. His eyes constantly remained downcast, his memories nothing more than the soil of the earth. His hair hung limply, pushed back from his sunken face. Once a beautiful, handsome man, now and forever, a man destroyed by his past.   
Marco hunched his shoulders forwards, sinking into himself as he dodged past villagers and the crowded stalls which decorated the alley ways. Keeping his gaze lowered, he felt the pressure against his sides slowly fade away. The constant fluster of voices dying. Hesitantly, he lifted his honeysuckle hues, taking in his surroundings.   
The market stalls had grown scarce, every so often, a lost stranger moving past the two. “Almost there…” Jean turned on his heels, grinning broadly before turning back to the dusty pathway. After a minute or so of uneasy silence, Jean turned sharply on a bend, Marco following quickly at his heels. Upon coming to a standstill, the male lifted his curious hues, cocking his head around the other to look for the cause.   
“Were here!” Jean sighed heavily, lips curling into a smile as he turned to stare at Marco expectantly. It didn’t appear much, but it was certainly as Jean had promised. It was sheltered away from the watchful eyes of villagers, and the tranquil nook was far from the noise of everyday life. An awkwardly constructed shelf was positioned against the far wall, containing various cans of food and bottled water. Just off to the side, sat a childishly painted chair, and an abandoned fire sat. Various items scattered the site; plates and other utensils were stacked in a corner, an assortment of photographs were taped to a clean wall, and various other objects were thrown lazily across the pitch. Lastly, two hammocks suspended from an overhang of a low roof. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was certainly cosy. And it clearly meant a lot to Jean.  
Marco’s hues widened as he glanced around the small nook, whilst Jean lingered with excitement for his response. “You live here…?” He whispered after a moments pause, voice light with curiosity as he took a couple of strides forwards. “Nah, I camp out here often though.” The male paused, smiling gently as he watched the other wander around the site with caution. “I created this place when I was a kid… It’s just a place I went when things were bothering me.”   
Marco listened gently to the other male words, lips curling into a soft smile, as his hues slowly lifted to meet his. The male hesitantly lifted a hand, tugging at the rear of his hood so that it fell from his eyes. “It’s sweet…” Melodious laughter bubbled from the quiet male’s lips, as he turned to appreciate his surrounds once more.  
Jean lowered his gaze, lips upturned into a gentle smile. His expression alone told that he was thankful. No words were needed, as his eyes seemed to sparkle with the praise.  
The male smiled gently, as he motioned to the hammocks in the far corner, as if giving the male permission. “Go ahead, and sit…”  
The hours passed as though they were seconds, time passing extraordinarily fast as the two men sat and talked together. It didn’t need to be serious discussion, it was just nice to talk of meaningless topics. Marco found his permanent frown lifting into smile, his cheeks flushing with fresh praise as time elapsed. Marco seemed to grow comfortable in the other male’s presence, despite the two just meeting. And before long, he found himself opening up in the presence of Jean.  
By this point, the sun had disappeared behind a canopy of trees, the sky blooming a midnight blue. Stars crept behind the clouds, decorating the sky like glitter. Marco and Jean sat beside each other in the glowing light of a fire, the warmth heating their cheeks like a steady blush. Marco lowered his gaze to the smouldering pit, smiling gently as Jean shared yet another tale of his childhood. Compared with Marco, Jean seemed to have many tales to share; the time he stole an apple from a market stall, betrayed by his hunger. Or the time when he almost got run over by a carriage and horse, resulting in hours of tears and a stern lecture by his parents. He told of his small cottage which he shared with his parents, still the child of the household. And his primary school, something which had been absent from Marco’s childhood. He even shared his future plans; his travels, marriage, factors that never seemed to cross Marco’s mind.  
He told of many things, which brought laughter bubbling from Marco’s lips. Although Jean seemed to do most of the talking, Marco was delighted. And for once, he felt welcomed.  
“So… Now that I’ve shared my whole life story…” Jean grinned as lifted his flushed face to meet the others eyes, his arms draped around his legs, hugging his knees to his chest. “What’s your story?”  
Marco remained silent for a brief moment, before beginning to speak. The words seemed to tumble from his lips without much hesitation, oddly so. There was no fright, or anxiousness as there had been previously. It seemed he was revealing his journey, for the very first time.  
“Once upon a time, a boy with a special talent was born into the world. Scientists and doctors seemed to love him from first sight, and they made discussion that they wanted to try out his special gift.  
The boy’s mother didn’t seem to love him as much as everyone else did. So once he got a little bit older, she gave him to the scientists to care for her baby boy.   
They started off gently. By giving him small tests, and treatments. It wasn’t very nice, but he didn’t mind. They always rewarded him afterwards if he was a good boy. But as he grew older, the experiments developed to be more cruel and forbidding.   
‘The men in the white lab coats’ they were called. They would tie the boy up, beat him, burn him and torture him. And it fascinated them every time that no matter how harsh his wounds were, they always healed.  
So they kept going, getting worse and more dreadful in their experiments. The media flooded stories, and soon the whole world knew of the boy’s special gift.  
It wasn’t until the boys eighteenth birthday, that he was freed. But by then, he wasn’t the same boy anymore.   
He still remains there today, in the little village of Gilmore, living in a small cottage on the outskirts of town.”   
Marco smiled gently as he lowered his gaze, his hues sharing the reflection of the radiant fire. He remained silent, as he waited for the others response. It was as if the barrier around his heart had finally been unlocked. And even though it just seemed a silly story, it brought a smile to his lips, that he had finally shared his journey.  
“Marco Bott. You were that little boy…” Jean’s brows tugged together as he gazed down at the other his hues soft with sorrow and apprehension. The male nodded gently in response, lips lifting into a sad smile. “It’s okay, Jean…” He whispered gently. By this point in his life, he no longer felt rage and grief for his past. If he was able, he would have change his childhood, but unfortunately he didn’t possess that gift. So he had learnt to deal with it and accept the fact, that this was now his identity.   
“You’ve earned my respect, Mr Bott…” Jean smiled gently, cheeks glowing in the light of the fire as he gazed at the other male. “From now on… Whenever you like… Come and visit me. Even if somethings troubling you, you can come and pay me a visit.”  
Marco chest tightened, managing nothing other than a stiff nod. His throat constricted as he blinked rapidly to clear the tears from his eyes, lips gracing a sweet smile.   
“Sure..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for how short my last chapter was, guys... I posted and I didn't realise how short it was ; _ ;  
> But none the less, thanks for reading guys!! Pwease comment too, I don't bite and I love to hear what you think!   
> ^.^

**Author's Note:**

> Hai~!!  
> Thanks for reading everyone! Please don't be afraid to comment, I would love to hear your comments!!  
> >/////


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